"Friend of mine.... You don't by any chance know Drummond, do you?"
"I've heard the name."
"You must have. The papers were full of his case for a while. Man supposed to have committed suicide—jumped off Washington Bridge a week before he was to marry Sara Law, the actress?"
"Why ... yes. Yes, I remember. But.... 'Supposed to have committed suicide'—did you say?"
He nodded. "He may have got away with it, at that. Only, I've good reason to believe he didn't.... I may as well tell you: it's no secret, although only a few people know it: Ember saw Drummond, or thinks he did, alive, in the flesh, a good half-hour after the time of his reported suicide."
"Really!" the girl commented in a stifled voice.
"Oh, for all that, there's no proof Ember wasn't misled by an accidental resemblance—no real proof—merely circumstantial evidence. Though for my part, I'm quite convinced Drummond still lives."
"How very curious!" There was nothing more than civil but perfunctory interest in the comment. "Are you ready to go on?"
And another time, when they were near the boat:
"When do you expect Mr. Ember?" asked the girl.